Reichenbach Ball
by The Wanderlust
Summary: The Doctor is called in for a special favor by the Winchester boys, who are in London, visiting the grave of Sherlock Holmes. Everything is most certainly not as it seems.
1. Chapter 1

Somewhere in London, England, a stout black headstone read SHERLOCK HOLMES in bold white lettering. Two men, one very tall, the other rather attractive, stood before the headstone looking grave. Finally the second man spoke.

"Don't you think there's something... funny, about all this?"

"What do you mean, Dean?" said the taller.

"I mean, we knew Sherlock. He was no fake, Sammy," said Dean. "I think we need to get the Doc in on this."

Far away in the vast expanse of deep space, a little blue box meandered lazily on its way toward a massive nebula in the distance. Inside the box, a solitary old man in a bow tie and a Stetson answered his phone.

"Dean, m'boy! What can I do for you?"

Only a moment later, the little blue box made a hairpin swerve and beelined at faster-than-light speeds toward the Milky Way galaxy.

* * *

_I can't claim credit for the title, or the beginning. The "Reichenbach Ball" references a fun little thing I found on tumblr. Credit where it's due, but I can't find the author. The beginning, right here, is from a gifset, also from tumblr, which inspired me to write the fic in the first place._

_This is my first attempt at a Superwholock crossover. Hope you like! Review, please. I could use the constructive criticism._


	2. Chapter 2

"So, what did you say was bothering you?" the Doctor inquired, taking a seat on an empty park bench in the graveyard.

Dean, who had remained standing near the black headstone, answered.

"It's like I said on the phone. People say Sherlock killed himself, that he was a fraud or something."

"They say?"

"We don't buy it," said Sam, who had taken a seat beside the Doctor.

"I see," the Doctor looked pensive. "Have you spoken with John about this?"

"Not yet," said Dean. "Haven't been in the neighborhood for long."

"Well then," the Doctor said, reaching deep into his jacket pocket and withdrawing a mobile phone. He tapped one button, speed-dialing Dr. John Watson.


	3. Chapter 3

A mobile phone was ringing on the front table at 221B Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson, who had been busying herself dusting off the book-laden shelves, started slightly when it rang. She called up the stairs to John, who was unpacking, as he had recently returned to Baker Street after a year's time away.

"John! The phone's ringing for you."

"Thanks, Mrs. Hudson," he said, coming down the stairs a bit slower than he would have otherwise, since he had begun to require his walking cane again. As Mrs. Hudson left the room for 221A, he picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"_John! Is that you? Hello! It's the Doctor! How are you?_"

"Doctor?" More startled than anything, John simply said, "I'm fine."

"_Good to hear! I've got Sam and Dean here with me._"

John heard muffled hellos.

"Hello, boys."

"_Listen, John, we were wondering if we could stop by for a moment. Something's bothering Dean and he wants to talk to you._"

"Well," John said, glancing around at the flat. It looked hardly lived in, for good reason, and there were old newspapers strewn across the table, but it was, he supposed, presentable. "Alright, sure. Pop by, I'll make some tea."

"_Thanks, mate,_" said the Doctor sincerely. "_We'll give you a few minutes._"

The Doctor let Sam and Dean into the TARDIS, placing the Stetson gently back on its coat rack. On the console, he set her to 221B Baker Street, six minutes in the future, to give John some time to make the tea, and pulled the main lever.


	4. Chapter 4

_Vworp_

_Vworp_

_Vworp_

The Doctor, Sam, and Dean stepped out of the TARDIS, having materialized on Baker Street, in a car parking space just outside the cafe. The Doctor, smiling, pressed the button for the doorbell twice, then stepped back to look around at the street. It was a thursday afternoon, so the street was fairly empty, save for a graffiti artist spray-painting a word onto a wall across the street. Then the door opened.

"Hello!" John greeted them cheerily. The Doctor skillfully chose not to mention the veiled emotions he detected behind John's smile. Instead, he pulled him into a hug.

"It's good to see you again. You're looking well," the Doctor said truthfully, releasing him. John did, indeed, look better than he had the last time the Doctor had seen him, which had been the day following the Fall.

Before that, John and Sherlock had joined the Doctor on a case in America, which is how they'd met Sam and Dean. Some haunted mansion perhaps forty miles south of Seattle. The Winchester boys had helped the friends wrap it up, and they'd kept in contact, exchanging calls and trading favors.

"Thanks," John said. He looked to Sam and Dean to avoid mentioning that the Doctor himself didn't look very well at all. "Hey, guys."

"Hi John," said Sam, looking slightly tense himself.

"Here, come in," John stepped back to allow the other three to enter the hallway, up the stairs, and into 221B. They took seats around the front room. The Doctor and Sam sat down on the sofa, John took his customary armchair, and Dean stayed standing, possibly out of nerves but probably to avoid sitting in Sherlock's chair. John passed out cups of tea.

"So John," Sam began tactfully, hoping to get away with it without it being uncomfortable, "Dean was wondering if you could, I mean, if it's not too much trouble, maybe tell us, um-"

"Maybe you could tell us what happened with Sherlock," Dean cut to the chase.

Several blinks and one tense silence later, John sighed a little, and nodded.

"Of course," he said, and began to tell the story.


	5. Chapter 5

"That doesn't explain why he _said_ he was a fake, though. Because he wasn't, and he wouldn't lie about that willingly, I mean," said Sam. John had finished his story and the other three were now discussing the possibilities.

"There's always a chance he was threatened. Moriarty might have forced him to do it," said the Doctor.

_Smash!_ A shattering of glass. Something small and fast rocketed behind the Doctor's head, so close that he felt his hair ruffle, and embedded itself in the wall above the sofa.

"_GET DOWN!_" Dean bellowed. John and Sam dropped to a crouch, but the Doctor was already at the wall beside the window, peeking around, trying to see who had fired the shot. _If they'd wanted any of us dead, we'd be dead already._ That had likely been a warning shot. Mrs. Hudson could be heard crying out at the noise, downstairs.

John had grabbed his gun from a kitchen drawer and Sam and Dean had removed their own, which they had been concealing in their jackets. The Doctor rolled his eyes, but didn't protest. There were more pressing problems.

"We need to get there," he said, pointing out the window to the second floor of the building across the street. The sniper he'd seen at the window of the building had gone. "We need to move. _Now!_" said Dean, but the Doctor was sprinting down the stairs and out the door. The others followed slower at first (uttering swift hellos to Mrs. Hudson, who had appeared in the hall) but faster when they saw the man the Doctor was chasing down the street.

Dean raised his gun, but the Doctor, still running, swung his arm behind him to point the sonic at it. It didn't fire. He then aimed the screwdriver at the red telephone box that the stranger was sprinting past, which immediately exploded, sending the man flying sideways into an electrical pole, where his head slammed against it, and he collapsed to the ground.

The Doctor caught up to the stranger, whose head was bleeding from hitting the pole, but not heavily enough to be deadly. His body was held up awkwardly by the barrel of the rifle strapped to his back.

John caught up to him first. He'd forgotten his walking cane in the living room. He knelt down to examine the sniper, tilting his head up to take his pulse, and the Doctor saw his face clearly. The same man had been spray-painting the building.

"Do you recognize him, Doctor?" said Dean. "Doctor?"

But while Sam was lifting the sniper to be brought back to 221B, the Doctor was all the way back down the block, eyeing the graffiti with trepidation.

Dean picked up the rifle, and he and John followed Sam back to the Doctor.

"What is it?" John asked the Doctor.

He was still looking at the graffiti, which read, in a kind of pixel-like style, four letters: Y-A-N-A.

He tried to stay completely calm, but his mind had sprung into action, generating a myriad of worst-case scenarios. That sniper hadn't been sending a warning. It was a message. The Face of Bo's last words lingered in his ears - _you are not alone._

But how could those words have followed him here? Their subject was long gone, he was certain. He had to be. If he'd escaped-

"Doctor?"

His thoughts snapped back to the present.

"Doctor," John had placed a steady hand on his shoulder, "what's wrong?"

_Focus._ "Nothing. We should get back inside. Bring the sniper upstairs with you. I'll take the TARDIS indoors."


	6. Chapter 6

The Doctor walked back through the kitchen after having parked the TARDIS in the back room. Mrs. Hudson was fussing over the new hole in the drywall where the bullet had pierced it, and the cracked window. Dean, Sam, and John were just coming back up the stairs, the sniper in tow, still unconscious.

"Sorry, Mrs. Hudson," John apologized while the Doctor drew the shades to block the windows. Sam and Dean got to work tying the sniper to a kitchen chair.

"He's not a demon, or a shifter, or... anything, really," said Sam, with Dean having checked each possibility.

"No. I didn't expect him to be," said the Doctor. "He's human. The question is, is his employer?"

The man had started to come round, as John was bandaging his head. The Doctor walked over to stand in front of him. Dean and Sam stood back, off to one side, looking slightly anxious. The stranger opened his eyes blearily.

"Right," the Doctor began, "let's start simple. What's your name?"

The stranger hesitated, glaring at the Doctor, but then said, "Nate Stone."

"Doctor, he's probably lying," said Sam in warning.

"Oh, I know, but we've got to call him something. So, Nate," he turned back to the sniper, "why are you here? You must've been sent by someone, for some reason."

Stone stayed silent at that.

"Nate, if you just tell us, we can let you go, nobody gets hurt."

Nothing.

"Okay," said Dean, looking ticked, and rolling up his sleeves.

"Dean, no," said the Doctor, "I said nobody gets hurt. That includes Nate."

"Doctor, this man did try to kill you," John muttered from Sam's side.

"No, he didn't."

"What?" the other three spoke all at once.

"Nate's a professional. Aren't you?" he looked at the sniper, who remained unmoved. "He wouldn't have missed me unless it was on purpose. But it wasn't a warning shot, either."

"Then what was it?" asked Sam.

The Doctor hesitated, looking thoughtful, perhaps worried.

"A message."

"From who?"

"Haven't the faintest," he lied quickly. "But I'd bet Nate here has an idea." He looked at the sniper, anxious.

Nate shook his head. "I'm a dead man if I tell you."

"We could get you protection, easily," said John.

"You couldn't. Not from him. They call him the consulting criminal."

"Moriarty is _dead,_" John said, tensely.

"Not him. There's a new boss man, now."

"Who is he?" said Dean, impatiently.

"He doesn't have a name."

"But what do you _call_ him?" Dean pressed.

The Doctor tensed visibly.

"The Master."


	7. Chapter 7

The Doctor closed his eyes.

He only did it for a moment, but the other three noticed. To John, he looked sad. Definitely not a good thing.

"Doctor?"

"Yes. Sorry," he turned back to the sniper. _Focus!_ "What do you know about Sherlock Holmes?"

"What, that loon that killed himself?" Nate gave an ugly smirk, trying to provoke them. John tensed and the Winchesters flinched, but the Doctor had steeled himself.

"No, I mean our friend, who we think may have been forced into doing what he did."

"Oh, _that_ guy," said Nate sarcastically.

"So he _was_ forced. Excellent. Do you know anything about that?"

"Well, I wouldn't tell you if I did, would I?"

The Doctor sighed, and gave a nod to Dean, who had already rolled up his sleeves, frowning determinedly.


	8. Chapter 8

Sam and John came into the TARDIS, back from delivering Nate Stone to the police department. Dean and the Doctor were talking while the Doctor fiddled with the console.

"You shouldn't have let him go," Dean was saying.

"Well, we did."

"But he might tell this... 'Master' guy where you are!"

"Dean, he already knows where I am! He knows about John, too! How else did he find us there? You're all in danger, now," he said, gritting his teeth and looking down at the console, furious with himself.

"Doc," Dean tried to regain his attention. "_Doctor._ You know this isn't your fault, right?"

The Doctor looked up at him again. He reminded Dean simultaneously of a child caught in wrongdoing and an old man seeking forgiveness.

"Right?"

The Doctor nodded, trying to assure himself as much as Dean.

"So, who is the Master, anyway?" Sam asked as he and John approached the console.

The Doctor sighed a little.

"He's a Time Lord. A long time ago, he was my friend. But he... well, long story short, he went mad somewhere along the way. So now, somehow, it seems he's taken over Moriarty's old operation. Not really surprising, considering. But something's not right, about all of this. Everything. It feels like I'm missing something big... and what Nate said about Sherlock...," he said as he flipped levers and pressed buttons and turned knobs on the console, putting the TARDIS into flight.

"We know, Doctor," said John, who was looking remarkably unfazed, especially after the sniper had told them.

Nate had explained (after some forceful encouragement by Dean) that Sherlock had not jumped that hospital rooftop by choice, but had, in fact, been forced into the action by Moriarty. He had also admitted that he himself and two other snipers had, on that day, been told to kill John, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson, had Sherlock not been seen falling. So now they knew.

The three younger men started to talk together, while the Doctor piloted the TARDIS. They were rocketing past the 1900s when the Doctor began to feel a strange ache in his upper temples. He tried not to flinch as it grew, but then the TARDIS rocked and shook dangerously.

"Doctor?" said Sam, looking over at him worriedly when the TARDIS quaked.

The Doctor, one hand to his forehead and the other on the TARDIS monitor, didn't answer. The stabbing pain in his head climaxed and the Cloister Bell rang ominously.

"_There's something wrong with the TARDIS!_" He could sense it. Whatever it was was causing the TARDIS immense distress, and in turn, himself. He peered through watering eyes at the monitor. Something, a signal of some sort, was pulling the TARDIS back, forward through time, to 2013.

The Doctor could barely see straight for the pain in his head, and the clanging of the Cloister Bell rang out through the pounding in his ears. His knees buckled. Sam caught him, and held him upright by the shoulders.

John had raced around the console to help, but there wasn't anything he could do. The Doctor had to try to fix the TARDIS, and quickly, because he was sure he wouldn't like wherever she was being lead.

He forced himself upright and started tapping about the buttons on the console. The scanner came up staticky, with the TARDIS still straining away at her captor, and her Cloister Bell still ringing. The other boys were exchanging frantic shouts and dashing about for something to hold onto while the TARDIS shook and the console sparked.

When the results displayed on the scanner, half-blind or not, it only took the Doctor a moment to recognize the signal on the screen, and only a moment more to match it with the pounding in his head.

_Bum-bum, bum-bum._

_Bum-bum, bum-bum._

"_It's the Master!_" he called to the others as he attempted desperately to block the signal, but too late. "_HANG ON!_" he bellowed, and the console exploded.

With a bang, the TARDIS collided violently with the year 2013, materializing over London. Still traveling far faster than the average military jet, she collided violently with the side of a brick building, and with a resounding _CRASH,_ hit the ground, on her side.


	9. Chapter 9

Inside the box, chaos had engulfed the console room. With the TARDIS on her side, the three boys hanging on to the guardrails had managed to avoid the greater part of the crash with little more than a sprained ankle and several bruises. On the other hand, Doctor, who'd been standing at the console, had been thrown with the force of a small bomb against the wall of the control room. He fell down until the TARDIS landed on her side, and he landed roughly, half-sideways on the wall when she leveled off.

"Doctor!" Dean shouted to him from his foothold on the guardrails, high above. Sam peered down from above the console, lying with his stomach flat to the bars of the rails. John was currently trying to make his way down to reach the Doctor.

"Wait, stay there a moment! I'm fine," he lied quickly. His head, while no longer pounding with the Master's four-beat rhythm, still felt a stabbing pain. The only real difference was that now, everything else ached too. The TARDIS' Cloister Bell had ceased, but the explosion at the console had definitely caused substantial damage. She wouldn't be flying again for some time.

The Doctor sat up slowly and gingerly, flinching slightly at a sharp pain in his right shoulder. Dislocated.

"Are you all alright?" He looked up at each of them, and they in turn looked around at each other, before giving identical shrugs in agreement.

"Could be worse," said John.

"We should try to get outside," Sam suggested.

"You're right. I can't tell where we've landed from here," the Doctor said.

They made their way slowly and cautiously to the doors, with the Doctor having some difficulty climbing the TARDIS' wall, with his shoulder refusing to cooperate. When they finally exited the sideways doors, they found themselves in a back-alley parking lot, behind several apartment buildings.

"Right. I have to fix the TARDIS. It won't be long till the people that dragged us back here come looking- _ow!_ Oh."

John, having noticed the Doctor's displaced shoulder, had crept around him and fixed it with a loud _snap_.

"Thanks."

"No problem. What do you need to fix it?"

"Nothing that isn't already inside. What I really need is this-" he stepped around the box to its top, crouching down to pick it up. Sam and Dean came around too, and together (with some difficulty) they lifted the box off its side, bringing it to a rest back on its base. The Doctor let the other boys enter first, and with a last concerned glance around, he followed them back inside, locking the door behind them.


End file.
